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Children's  ballads  from  history  an 


153    QD43TE41    3 


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4i. 


THE    BALLAD-BOOK. 


CHILDREN'S    BALLADS 


FROM    HISTORY    AND    FOLK    LORE 


Mrs.  Clara  iiurv  B^xj-i,  Susan   Co(ilidge,  Mrs.  Louisa   T.  Crafgin, 
Edith  \V.  Cook,  Mrs.  Frances  A.  Humphrkv,  Mrs.  Emma    Huntington  Nason,  Mrs.  Margaret 

1.  PresTon,  and  Mary  K.  Wii.kins 


EIGHTY-FOUR     ILLUSTR.^XTIONS     BY 
K.    H.    GARRETT,    G.    F.    BARNES,    AND    JESSIE    McDERMOTT 


BOSTON 
D.  LOTHROP  AND  COMPANY 

32    FRANKLIN    STREET,    CORNER    OF    HAWLEY 


C5 


Copyright,  iS86, 

by 

D.  LoTHROP  &  Company. 


.n:  contents. 

I. 

The  Cock-Horse  Regiment  .         .         -         .         Mrs.  Frances  A.  Hnviphrey. 

II. 
Wasis,  The  Conqueror Edith    \V.  Cook. 

III. 
Little  Ursel's  IMotherixg  Sund.w       -         .         .        .         .         Susan  Coolidge. 

IV. 
King  Robert's  Bowl    -        -         -  ...         Mrs.   Clara  Dory  Bates. 

V. 
A  B.\LL.\D  OF   Kexilworth      -         ...         -         Mrs.   Margaret  J.   Preston. 

VI. 
The  Mission  Tea-Partv  .         -         .         .         Mrs.   Emma  Huntington  Nason. 

VII. 
Edenhall -         -         -         .         Susan   Coolidge. 

VIII. 
King  Oleg's  Crown Mrs.  Louisa  T.   Craigin. 

IX. 
Little  Peachling -         -        Mary  E.    Wilkins. 

X. 
The  Fairy  Flag Mary  E.    Wilkins. 


f  J/ .,  ■■     l-..r;^-^* 


rr,/    ^^  — 


'IV^'^WhJ^ 


r 


I. 

THE    COCK-HORSE    REGIMENT. 

Aji  Iiicidcnt  of  the  "  Thirty   Years    WarP 


<^a 


.Crt 


sJLoV  :;:=C~^  ^--- 


PROUDLY  placed  among  her  meadows, 
With  the  Pegnitz  winding  near, 
Proudest  of  all  German  cities  — 
Nuremberg,  without  her  peer. 

Nuremberg  the  free  and  mighty ; 

Nuremberg,  whose  busy  hand 
"  Goeth,"  saith  her  ancient  rhymster, 

"  Far  and  wide  through  ever)'  land." 


Vainly  Waldstein's  cannon  thundered 
'Gainst  the  city,  tower-walled, 

Vainly  hurled  he  his  battalions, 
Vainly  for  surrender  called. 

But  her  people  died  by  thousands 
In  the  close  beleaguered  town, 

And  her  women  prayed  while  swiftly 
Ran  the  tears  their  cheeks  adown, 

O  the  horror  I  O  the  anguish ! 

O  the  bitter,  bitter  cry 
Of  the  orphan  and  the  widow 

In  that  land  of  Germany  ! 

After  thirty  years  of  struggle. 
Thirty  years  of  bloody  strife, 

Cities  sacked,  and  stan-ing  peoples, 
Nuremberg  came  back  to  life. 


Once  more  in  her  narrow  highways 
,     Fearless  children  laughed  and  played, 
Once  more  from  her  oriel  windows 
Looked  the  happy-hearted  maid. 

Then  the  Prince,  th'  imperial  envoy, 

Piccolomini,  outspoke : 
"  We  will  have  a  day  of  feasting, 

O  my  fasting  burgher-folk  ! 

"  Very  fit  that  liere,  it  seemeth, 
Here  in  Nuremberg  the  old. 

First  of  all  our  loyal  cities 

Wherein  news  of  peace  is  told, 

"  Very  lit  that  blazing  bonfire, 
Booming  cannon,  chiming  bell. 

With  their  tongues  of  fire  and  iron 
Blessed  years  of  peace  foretell." 


As  the  Prince,  so  said  the  people. 

Glad  they  gathered  on  that  day  — 
July  day  —  in  sixteen  hundred 

Fifty  —  mark  the  year,  I  pray. 


For  from  ashes  of  war's  fires 

Smoldering  then  upon  the  earth, 

Phcenix-like,  the  German  Nation 
Dates  her  happy  birth. 


Gladly  forth  from  every  quarter, 
Soldier,  burgher,  all  outpour. 

Marching  in  strait  ranks  and  serried. 
Marching  on  from  door  to  door ; 

Bearing  silken  standards,  crimson, 
Gold,  of  Nurembergan  blue 

Famous  as  the  Tvrian  purple, 
—  As  'tis  told  I  tell  it  you  — 

Bearing  banks  of  spears  uplifted. 

Treading  sturdily  alway. 
Guild  on  guild,  the  cobbler,  blacksmith 

\one  were  wantinfr  on  that  day. 


None  ?  No  —  think  you  little  children 
Failed  to  lend  their  piquant  grace 

To  their  country's  pageant  ?  Doubter  I 
They  too  had  their  time  and  place. 

In  among  the  moving  column, 
Heads  erect  and  eyes  intent. 

Gallantly,  most  gallantly, 

Marched  the  Cock-Horse  Regiment ! 

Clad  in  royal  Genoa  velvets, 

Ostrich  plumes,  and  Flanders  lace. 

Gems  that  sparkled  as  they  rode  by 
—  Children  of  patrician  race 


Side  by  side  with  peasants  sturdy, 
Each  boy  waving  with  a  toss 

High  in  air  his  cutlass  tiny, 
Each  upon  his  hobby-horse. 

So  on  swept  the  grand  procession 
Past  the  castle  where  now  stands 

As  then  stood  the  lofty  linden 
Set  by  Kunigunde's  hands  ; 

Past  the  house  where  Diirer  painted, 
Where  with  patient  skill  he  wrought 

Drew  his  wondrous  "  Burgomaster," 
Truth  and  reverence  in  his  thought : 


(There  still  stands  his  ancient  tombstone, 

Emigravit  carved  thereon  ; 
"  Gone,  not  dead,"  the  legend  runneth  — 

Nuremberg's  own  dearest  son.) 


Past  the  high  and  stately  Rath-Haus 
With  its  dungeons  darlc  and  deep, 

With  its  dreadful  torture-chamber, 
Torture  that  did  murder  sleep ; 


Past  the  peasants'  well-belove'd  — 
"  Little  Goose-man  "  is  his  name  — 

Flowing  fountain,  geese  and  goose-man, 
Still  beloved,  and  known  to  fame. 


Then  in  gracious  accents  speaking  : 
"  My  wisli  is,  and  my  intent. 

That  once  more  shall  march  before  me 
This  brave  Cock-Horse  Regiment." 


WEPY)^ 


So  again  in  later  summer. 

Proudly,  as  before,  the\-  went; 

Banners  flying,  steeds  a-prancing, 
Marched  the  Cock-Horse  Resfiment. 


On  the  obverse  —  ah  !  how  proudly 
Went  up  each  head  with  a  toss 

As  the  eyes  of  each  boy  fell  on 
Himself  on  his  hobbv-horse  ! 


At  the  Red  Horse  Hostel  halting, 

Piccolomini  the  Prince 
Gave  to  each  a  silver  medal. 

For  them  cast  and  <rraven  since 


Vivat  Fcrdinando  HI ! —  'twas 
Thus  thereon  the  legend  read  ; 

Long  may  live  the  Roman  Empire .' 

—  Empire  long,  now  long  since  dead. 


Last  they  stood  taere  ;  and  on  one  side, 

In  the  silver  bedded  fine, 
Austria's  eagle,  double-headed  — 

Empire's  signet  —  they  saw  shine. 


So  with  cheers  and  loud  huzza-ings, 
Heads  erect  and  eyes  intent, 

On  their  prancing  steeds  away  then 
Marched  the  Cock-Horse  Regiment. 


mm,  rr.d_^^M 


II. 

WASIS,  THE   CONQUEROR. 

Aji  Algonquin   Legend. 


^  'W/A 


LO  !    all  the  world  I  have  conquered,'' 
Glooskap,  the  Might)-  One,  said. 
Light  laughed  an  Indian  woman, 
Shaking  her  dark-braided  head 


"  Speak  not  too  swiftly,  my  master. 
One  still  unconquered  remains  — 

\^'asis,  the  Baby,  forever 

Lord  of  the  mightiest  reigns." 

Watching  the  motes  in  the  sunshine. 

Baby  sat  still  on  the  floor : 
Olooskap,  the  mighty  magician. 

Gazed  through  the  open  door. 

He  who  had  vanquished  the  storm-bird. 
Binding  its  wings  in  the  north  — 

Ever  the  wild  winds  after 

Speeding  more  gently  forth  — 

He  who  could  fashion  the  squirrel 

Little  or  great,  at  his  will. 
Lord  of  the  bear  and  the  beaver. 

Master  of  good  and  ill. 


Gazed  at  tlie  wonderful  Baby 
Watching  the  dancing  gold, 

Wondered  what  magical  weapon 
Little  brown  fingers  could  hold. 

Happy  of  heart  in  the  sunshine, 
Wasis,  the  wonderful  Child, 

Sucking  the  sweets  of  the  maple. 
Looked  at  the  stranger  and  smiled. 


Sweet,  then,  as  'mid  summer  forest 
Singeth  the  wee  winter  wren, 

Spoke  unto  Wasis,  the  Strong  One, 
Master  of  beasts  and  men. 

L'nto  the  Master's  eyes  lifted 
Wondering  eyes  of  the  child  — 

Moved  in  the  sunshine  no  shadow, 
Wasis  sat  silent  and  smiled. 


Glooskap,  the  mighty  magician,  Tiien,  with  a  voice  as  of  thunder. 

Wife  had  known  never,  nor  child.  Under  a  terrible  frown  — 

Knew  not  the  heart's  tender  watchwords  From  the  fir-trees  of  the  forest 
Wherewith  caresses  are  wiled ;  Falling  the  brown  cones  down- 


Softly  he  smiled  at  the  Baby, 
Bidding  him,  gently,  come  nigh. 

Wasis  stirred  not  from  the  sunshine. 
Watching  the  motes  dance  by. 


Glooskap,  the  mighty  magician, 
Spoke  his  command  o'er  and  o'er. 

Neither  the  sunshine  nor  shadow 
Changed  on  the  lodge's  bare  flocr. 


III. 

LITTLE    URSEL'S    MOTHERING   SUNDAY. 

An  old  Eitcrlisk  Folk-Observance. 


THE  long  day's  tasks  were  neatly  done, 
The  milk  pail  scoured,  the  milk  set  by. 
And  Ursel  at  the  set  of  sun 

Stood  wistfully  her  mistress  nigh. 

The  Dame  was  stern,  the  Dame  was  shrewd, 
So  all  the  neighbors  were  agreed, 

Thrifh'  and  sharp  in  word  and  mood, 
But  kindly  still  and  just  of  deed. 

She  glanced  at  Ursel's  braided  hair. 

She  watched  the  color  come  and  flit 
On  the  voung  cheek  so  round  and  fair. 

And  well  she  knew  the  cause  of  it. 

And  smiling  at  the  little  maid. 

"  You  have  worked  well  and  had  no  play, 
And  been  a  steady  lass,"  she  said, 

"  Now  you  shall  have  a  holiday. 


"To-morrow  Mutliering  Sunday  is 
When  children  to  their  parents  go, 

Each  with  a  gift  for  her,  or  his, 
And  you  shall  have  a  gift  also. 

"The  small  round  cheese  I  bade  you  make, 

The  pat  of  butter  on  the  shelf, 
The  crusty  loaf  you  saw  me  bake  — 

These  you  shall  carry  home  yourself. 


"  I  mind  me  how,  a  lass  like  you 
With  such  a  basket  on  my  arm, 

I  hied  me  home,  as  you  shall  do 
On  Mothering  Day,  to  the  old  farm. 


The  Dame  at  window  overhead 

Watched  the  girl  go  with  joyous  speed ; 
"Mothers  are  happy  folk,"  she  said, 

"  Mothers  are  lucky  folk  indeed." 


"  And  how  my  mother- —  rest  her  soul ! 

She  has  been  dead  these  forty  years  "  - 
The  Dame's  voice  shook  beyond  control. 

She  could  not  see  the  fire  for  tears. 


Across  the  moor  four  distant  miles. 
At  the  same  time  a  lad  set  forth. 

With  clean-washed  face  all  lit  with  smiles ; 
He  headed  south  and  Ursel  north. 


ISut  little  Ursel's  cheeks  were  red. 

Her  heart  was  bounding  light  and  gay  ; 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you.  Dame,"  she  said. 
And  quietly  she  stole  away. 


His  holiday  was  hard  to  gain, 
His  surly  master  cared  no  whit 

For  Mothering  Sunday,  and  in  vain 
The  bov  had  urged  his  wish  for  it ; 


The  morning's  dawn  was  clear  and  fair, 
And  Ursel  rose  before  the  sun  ; 

She  neatly  bound  her  long  bright  hair. 
And  did  her  morning  tasks,  each  one. 


Until  at  last  the  farmer's  wife, 

\\'ith  pity  touched,  had  won  consent ; 

And  glad  as  never  in  his  life 

The  shepherd  boy  arose  and  went. 


She  made  her  ready  for  the  road, 
She  tied  her  shoes  and  Sunday  hat, 

And  in  a  basket  she  bestowed 
The  bread-loaf  and  the  butter-pat. 


\<' 


He  bore  no  gift,  poor  little  lad. 

His  wage  was  naught  but  clothes  and  food, 
But  mother  would,  he  knew,  be  glad. 

And  count  his  coming  as  a  good. 


Northward  ran  Ursel  o'er  the  fell. 
Southward  the  shepherd  fleeter  yet, 

And  half-wav  by  a  roadside  well 
The  brother  and  the  sister  met. 

Both  clapped  their  hands  in  gladsome  wise  ; 

Long  months  had,  since  they  met,  gone  by; 
Tears  shone  in  Ursel's  happy  eyes. 

But  manly  Robin  scorned  to  cry. 


"  Have  you  no  gift  for  mother  brought  ? " 
She  asked  ;  her  brother  shook  his  head  ; 

"  Nothing  with  nothing  can  be  bought. 
How  could  I  brin'j;  one  ? "  Robin  said. 


They  danced  adown  the  lower  hill. 

Threaded  the  copse  and  crossed  the  brook, 

'Till  Ursel  suddenly  stood  still. 

Crying,  "  O  Robin  !  Robin  !  Look  !  " 

There,  in  a  sheltered  hollow  set, 
Couched  shyly  hv  a  mossy  stone, 

They  saw  the  earliest  violet 

All  purple  sweet  and  fully  blown. 

"Your  gift?  "  she  cried,  "and  best  of  all. 
The  proverb  runs,  that  you  could  bring  : 

It  says  that  '  Violets  shall  befall 
Him  who  shall  go  a-mothering! '  " 


Their  mother  at  the  doorway  stood, 

Her  hearth  was  swept  all  cleanly  bright. 

She  looked  to  moor,  she  looked  to  wood, 
Shading  her  eyes  against  the  light. 

She  saw  the  youthful  figures  dawn 
Dark  shapes  against  the  shining  sky, 

And  as  they  rapidly  came  on 
Contentment  filled  tiie  mother's  eye ; 

And  it  was,  '•  You  have  grown,  my  lass," 
And  it  was,  "welcome  home,  dear  lad," 

As  laughing,  chattering,  in  they  pass 
With  lightsome  steps  and  kisses  glad. 


The  yellow  simnels  shone  like  gold. 
The  frumenty  was  spiced  and  hot. 

The  children  feasted  as  of  old, 
The  mother  too  —  though  eating  not. 

.'Xh  !  sweet  old  Mothering  Holiday 
Which  bound  the  ties  of  kindred  fast. 

Lost  and  forgotten  in  our  day  — 
What  pity  that  it  could  not  last ! 


IV. 
KING   ROBERT'S    BOWL. 

A   Story  of  "  The  Brncer 


•I  y/i/ ,  I  ■,*-/  *  V  ,     -    ■  //  // 


^- 


^^^       *■- .^■^-'^^     _-.Tt.* 


(It  was  the  time  when  Robert  Bruce,  though  Scot- 
land's crowned  lord, 

Was  driven  his  own  realm  about  b\'  Edward's  en- 
vious sword  — 

Five  centuries  and  more  ago  —  and  oft  the  dreary- 
heath 

Saw  lonely  battles,  hand  to  hand,  end  in  some 
lonely  death.) 


The  gude-wife's  Scottish  blood  was  up,  she  neared 
the  foes  to  see 

Which  kniglit  was  her  own  countryman,  which 
might  the  Southron  be  ; 

That  both  were  weak  their  bloody  arms  and  stag- 
gering steps  bespoke, 

But  suddenly  one  dealt  the  other's  casque  a  mighty 
stroke. 


He  fell  :  and  from  the   broken  helmet  strayed  a 

lock  of  hair, 
'Twas   English  hair  —  she  knew  'twas   English  — 

long  and  very  fair ; 
Quickly  she  ran  and  seized  the  lock,  held  so  he 

could  not  stir, 
And  claimed  he  yield  himself  at  once  conquered 

and  prisoner. 


With  faint  voice  then  the  standing  knight,  as  if  in  Then  Lisbeth  knew  this  was  her  king,  and  cried 

half  excuse,  as  she  arose  ; 

Spake :  "  Not  so  long  had  he  withstood  the  arm  of  "  He  hails  you  king,  else  I  throw  on  him  boiling 

Robert  Bruce,  butter-brose." 

Had  I  not  been  for  two  whole  days  without  a  taste  "  Nay,"  quoth  the  king,  ")-our  victory,  gude-wife, 

of  food."  is  so  complete 

At  this  his  royal  limbs  half  bent  beneath  him  as  Far  better  give  two  starving  men  your  butter-brose 

he  stood.  to  eat." 


The\-  entered  the  low  cottage  door  —  the  prisoner 

and  the  king  — 
And  Lisbeth  made  all  haste  a  huge  great  bowl  to 

fill  and  bring ; 
But  first  she  locked  up  all  her  spoons,  within  an 

oaken  chest, 
Except  one  only  ;  that  she  placed  before  her  royal 

guest. 


"  No  Southron  shall  taste  bit  or  drop  beneath  my 

roof,"  she  cried. 
Her  fierj'  zeal  amused  the   king,  who  generously 

replied, 
"  Brave  dame,  thou  knowest  this  land  is  mine,  the 

hill  beyond  is  fair  ; 
The  valley  in  front   is  fertile  —  see,  thy  sheep  are 

cropping  there ; 


"  Well,  I  will   make  thee  lady  of  all  that  with  thy 

nimble  feet 
Thou  canst  run  round  at  thy  best  pace  while  I  my 

breakfast  eat." 
She  bound  her  hair  about  her  head,  stood  poised 

as  if  for  flight, 
"  Now,    woman's    speed,"    cried    Robert   Bruce, 

"  'gainst  a  king's  appetite  !  " 


Away  she  sped  ;  the  track  about  the  hill  was  stony 

and  rough  ; 
She  heeded  not;  to  her  it  seemed  easy  and  smooth 

enough. 
On,  on,  through  dew  and  drench,  until  she  neared 

her  home  once  more. 
And  jjaused  a  moment  on  the  step  to  peep  within 

the  door. 


And  there  the  king  and  vanquished  knight,  helmets 

and  swords  off.  ate 
Her  porridge,   sharing  bowl  and  spoon   between 

them  alternate. 
"  Fair  play,  my  liege,  fair  play  !  "  she  cried,  and 

even  while  he  heard. 
■W'as  off  again,   round  farm  and  field,  swift   as  a 

homeward  bird. 


And  to  this  day  in  Galloway  they  hold  that  royal 

dole. 
But   keep   as    their   best    heritage    King    Robert 

Bruce 's  bowl. 


The  bowl  was  large,  a  single  spoon  made  chival- 
rous eating  slow ; 

And  Lisbeth's  feet  were  fleet  as  long  as  she  might 
choose  to  go. 

Far,  far!  the  circuit  that  she  made  wide  acres  did 
enclose, 

While  Scot  and  Southron  changed  about  the  spoon 
and  butter-brose. 


And  when  along  the  flaming  east  the  fires  of  sun- 
rise burned, 

And  the  gude-wife  with  drabbled  limbs  and  scant 
of  breath  returned. 

The  bowl  was  empty  'tween  the  two  :  quoth  Robert 
Bruce  to  her. 

"  My  loyal  dame,  when  Scottish  kings  shall  pass 
the  river  Urr 


"  Hereafter,  let  their  sovereign  pride  honor  a  stead- 
fast soul 

Bv  eating  peasant  butter-brose  out  of  King  Robert's 
bowl. 

Be  it  kept  precious,  passing  down  through  chil- 
dren's children's  hands, 

As,  free  from  fee  or  tithe,  they  hold  thy  valorously- 
earned  lands. 


"  Thine,  rendered  as  thy  king's  own  gift,  thine  and 

thy  heirs,  as  long 
As  lives  the  name  of   Robert  Bruce  in  story  or  in 

sonsf." 


V. 
A   BALLAD    OF   KENILWORTH. 

A   Sojiveuir  of  Sir   Walter  Scott. 


A  gray-haired  ^\anderer  sat  and  mused, 

With  chin  upon  his  staff ; 
A  spiral  stair,  that  led  nowhere. 

Sent  back  a  schoolboy's  laugh. 


< 


6    LAf^ 


^:^.^] 


And  in  I  saw  the  proud  Queen  Bess 

Upon  her  palfrey  ride, 
And  Leicester  dight  like  royal  knight. 

Careering  at  her  side. 


I  watched  her  in  the  grotto  glide, 
Behind  the  coppiced  screen  ; 

And  wlien  with  talk,  along  the  wall 
Came  Leicester,  with  the  Queen, 


'>  'IV 


^^l 


.^^/ 


7 


& 


^% 


c^. 


Ci 


^t^ 


—  A  girl  as  fair  as  Amy's  self, 

Here  broke  upon  my  trance, 
And  put  to  rout  with  merry  shout 

My  vision  of  romance. 

"  Why  !  ■we've  been  wandering  up  and  down, 

And  searching  for  an  hour  ; 
And  find  you  now  asleep,  I  \'ow. 

In  Amy  Robsarl's  Tower  !  " 

Her  mirthful  voice  dissolved  the  spell 

(^More  potent  than  the  Earl's), 
And  looking  round,  I  only  found 

A  band  of  saucy  girls. 

The  sun  was  hastening  down  t"ne  west, 

And  from  the  crannied  nooks 
I  heard  the  caws  of  noisy  daws, 

And  saw  the  wheeling  rooks. 


But  on  Sir  Walter's  pictured  page 
Sweet  Amy  does  not  seem 

To  walk  again  in  life,  as  when 
She  crossed  mv  waking  dream. 


2       f.'      ^-S^^Ji'i 


^i^0J^ 


VI. 
THE    MISSION    TEA-PARTY. 

A   Souvenir  of  Havclock  and  Lite  know. 


////iSi.aKimlfm 


THE  war  in  the  East  had  ended; 
Its  terrors  were  past,  they  said; 
There  was  peace,  once  more,  for  the  living, 
And  peace  for  the  valiant  dead. 


""Through  the  splendid  squares  of  Lucknow 

The  Highlanders  marched  again  ; 
The  heroes  of  fortress  and  jungle, 
Brave  Havelock's  peerless  men  ! 


Ay  !  open  your  gates,  O  Lucknow  !  — 
But  measure,  ye  guards,  your  breath, 

As  ye  think  of  those  days,  an  hundred, 
When  Ha\elock  marched  with  death. 


They  had  freed  the  beleaguered  city, 
Fouglit  step  by  step  through  the  vale ; 

And  swept  from  the  shore  of  the  Ganges 
Forever  the  Sepoy's  trail. 


Then  welcome  them  hack  with  rejoicing, 
O  minaret,  tower  and  shrine  ! 

For  these  are  the  men  who  saved  you. 
Whose  glory  outlasteth  thine  ! 


Throufjh  the  streets  swept  the  colors  ot  Knglanci, 

IJorne  proudly  aloft  on  the  air ; 
Wiiile  the  "throne  land  of  Rama  "  re-echoed 

The  Christian's  thanksgiving  and  prayer. 


Ot  tiie  pain,  the  hunger,  the  thirsting. 
The  death  in  the  jungle's  gloom  ; 

The  rescue  of  woman  and  children, 
Threatened  with  direful  doom. 


mi. 


And  blithest:  of  all  were  the  pipers. 

Their  tartan  plaids  streaming  in  pride, 

As  they  woke,  on  the  banks  of  the  Goomtee, 
The  airs  of  the  Doon  and  Clyde. 


And  she  said,  "  I  will  spread  them  a  banquet. 
With  a  touch  of  the  homeland  cheer. 

And  the  welcome  their  mothers  would  give  them, 
Afar  in  the  heatherlands  dear. 


Then  the  heart  of  one  beautiful  woman 
Was  stirred  by  an  impulse  sweet, 

.\s  she  thought  of  the  long,  forced  marches, 
The  weary  and  blood-stained  feet  ; 


"  Not  for  twice  twelve  months  have  they  tasted 

A  simple  cupful  of  tea  ! 
I  will  serve  it  to-day  for  the  heroes 

Who  periled  their  lives  for  me  ! 


"  Bid  them  come  to  the  courts  of  the  Mission  ! ' 

Gay  awnings  were  hastily  hung; 
While  on  tripods  of  curious  fashion, 

The  teakettles  merrilv  swung  ; 


Swung  and  sung  songs  of  tiie  homeland  ; 

Familiar  and  sweet  were  the  tunes. 
As  if  winds  of  the  loch  and  the  mountain 

Blew  soft  through  the  Indian  noons. 


At  the  old  gray  gate  of  the  .Mission, 
'Xeath  turret  and  watchtowers  high, 

Where  the  dusk-eyed  Indian  Princess 
Had  dreamed  in  the  days  gone  by. 


She  fastened  the  tartan  of  Scotland 

With  the  thistle-bloom  over  her  breast ; 

And  her  own  little  winsome  daughter 
In  the  bonny  bright  plaid  she  drest. 


This  fair-faced,  brave-hearted  woman, 
A  stranger  from  lands  of  the  West, 

To  the  ancient,  palace  and  gardens 
Welcomed  each  war-worn  guest. 


And  with  Highland  bonnets  uplifted, 
There  under  the  Hindoo  palm, 

The  soldiers  of  Havelock  listened 
To  the  Hebrew's  glorious  psalm  : 


Served  with  the  grace  and  the  bounty 

Of  royal  fete  and  of  feast. 
To  the  tattered  and  smoke-grimed  heroes, 

In  halls  of  the  storied  East. 


Note.  — This  incident  was  related  to  the 
aiithoi-  by  Dr.  William  Butler,  American  Mis- 
sionary in  India  during   the  Sepoy  Rebellion. 

The  event  occurred  when  Havelock's  Bri- 
gade had  returned  to  Lucknow,  to  take  up 
their   line  of  march  for  the  .Afghan  frontier. 


"  Thou  w'entest  before  thy  people, 
And  kings  of  armies  did  flee  !" 

Then  merrily  under  the  shadows 
They  drank  of  the  fragrant  tea, 


And  many  a  battle-scarred  soldier 
Let  fall  from  a  glistening  eye 

Hot  tears  on  the  haiKl  of  his  hostess 
For  whom  he  had  thought  to  die. 


And  for  her  was  the  Highlander's  blessing 
Breathed  low  in  that  tenderer  scene 

When  the  pipers,  proud  in  their  places, 
Plaved  grandlv  —  "God  save  the  Queen!' 


VII. 
EDENHALL 

A    West  of  England  Folk-Tale. 


•EDEL-NI- 


Ncm',  when  you  knock  at  that  same  oak 
A  sober  old  Goody  of  some  threescore 
Comes  primly  forth  in  a  cap  and  shawl, 
And  shows  you  Edenhall. 


Old  chairs,  old  settles,  a  mighty  jack 
For  the  roasting  of  beeves,  a  dungeon  bla 
The  heir's  quaint  cradle,  the  rusty  pall 
Of  the  Lords  of  Edenhall. 

And  chiefest  of  all  its  treasures,  stands, 
Safe-hidden  from  intermeddling  hands, 
In  a  guarded  cupboard  built  into  the  wr 
The  "  Luck  "  of  Edenhall. 

'Tis  an  oddly-shaped  goblet,  strong  and 
Enamelled  by  some  glass-working  trick 
Unknown  to  our  modern  craft  — that's  all 
This  "  Luck  "  of  Edenhall. 

They  say  it  was  made  by  the  fairies'  selves 
And  used  at  the  banquets  of  the  elves 
\\'hen  their  King  and  their  Queen  held  carnival 
In  the  woods  of  Edenhall. 


VIII. 
KING    OLEG'S    CROWN. 

A   Russia};.  Folk-Talc. 


m^^ilMf 


By  Mrs.  Louise  T.  Craigin. 


FROM  Finland  to  Azov,  Ochotsk  to  Obe, 
There's  tumult  and  turmoil  on  land  and  on  sea ; 
You'd  think  all  creation  was  turned  upside  down  — 
King  Oleg  of  Russia  has  lost  his  gold  crown ! 

They  say  the  King  cut  off  the  chancellor's  head ; 
They  say  the  old  chamberlain  tumbled  down  dead  ; 
The  guards  in  the  palace,  in  five  minutes'  space, 
Were  straight  to  Siberia  sent  in  disgrace  ! 

The  fault  was  not  theirs  ;  but,  if  matters  go  ill, 
'Tis  certain  that  some  one  must  foot  up  the  bill ; 
If  kings  can't  be  censured  for  mischief  they've  done, 
There  must  be  found  shoulders  to  laj'  it  upon  ! 

Did  robbers  force  open  the  great  castle  gate  ? 
Did  burglars  break  in  and  then  stealthily  wait. 
And,  spite  of  stout  bars,  iron  bolts  and  steel  locks, 
Bear  off  from  the  palace  King  Oleg's  strong  box  ? 

Ah,  no  !     Tho'  'tis  treason  to  say  it,  I  fear, 
Nor  burglar  nor  midnight  marauder  came  near. 
No  robber  gained  entrance.     If  truth  must  be  told. 
King  Oleg  himself  lost  the  big  crown  of  gold ! 

A  long  while  ago,  on  the  night  of  his  birth. 
Was  seen  a  great  comet  approaching  the  earth; 
And  now,  once  again,  the  astrologers  wise 
Discover  strange  portents  aloft  in  the  skies. 


The  horoscope  old  they  ponder  anew. 
They  find,  past  a  question,  the  comet  is  due 
About  this  same  season  ;   and  with  it,  'tis  clear, 
Misfortune  and  trouble  must  surely  appear. 


King  Oleg  this  comet  resolved  to  espy  ; 
He  held  his  big  spy-glass  up  close  to  his  eye. 
And  he  sat  in  his  great  chair  of  state  upright, 
Hiscrownon  his  head,  througli  the  livelong  night. 


He  napped  and  he  nodded ;  but  each  time  he  woke. 
Straight  out  of  the  window  his  head  he  could  poke. 
—  It  wasn't  so  easy  to  balance  that  crown ! 
It  seemed  ev'ry  instant  it  must  topple  down, 

For  each  time  he  twisted  his  head  in  the  search, 
Tho'  too  sleepy  to  know  it,  the  crown  gave  a  lurch. 
Now  crowns,  to   look  stately,  should    always  stand 

square, 
For  if  not,  they  give  one  a  scandalous  air, 


The  sensible  Queen  in  her  white-ruffled  cap 
Woke  again  and  again  from  a  warm  cosey  nap, 
"  Do  take  off  that  big  crown,  dear  Oleg,"  she  said, 
"  And,  too,  you  would  be  better  off  in  your  bed ! 

"  I  never  could  see  why  your  crown  )'ou  would  wear, 
When  there's  nobody  round  but  just  me  to  care  !  " 
"  Because  you're  a  woman  ;  it's  quite  plain  to  me  : 
A  king  wears  his  crown  for  his  ov.n  dignity  !  " 


The  wind  it  was  high  and  the  night  it  was  cold. 
The  King  felt  the  frost  through  his  ermine  and  gold  ; 
He  rubbed  his  nose  smartly,  for  fear  it  would  freeze, 
Then   shivered    and    shook,   and    then    gave  a  big 
sneeze  ! 


hum-  '^N^.^-rJ>'^'J-'^Of  'i 


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"•"•t-. 


I  7 


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M  t 


1'./ 


Ah,  fatal  that  sneeze  for  the  great  Russian  crown  ! 
It  trembled  and  tottered,  and  then  tumbled  down  ; 
It  bumped,  and   it   bounced    from    the  wall    to    the 

ditch, 
And  fell  at  the  feet  of  an  old  wrinkled  witch. 


Loud  sounded  the  trumpets ;  the  news  through  the 

land 
Flew  fast,  and  each  courtier  in  grief  wrung  his  hand. 
It  was  "oh,"  it  was  "ah,"  and  they  tore  at  their  hair, 
While  Oleg  himself  was  half-crazed  witli  ilespair. 

They  siuiimoned  the  cunning,  the  star-gazing  men, 
In  hopes  by  their  wisdom  to  find  it  again  — 
Arabian,  Persian,  Chaldee  and  Chinese  ! 
As  well,  for  advice,  have  consulted  the  geese  I 

In  throngs  they  came  trooping,  North,  South,  East 

and  West ; 
Some  horoscopes  drew,  and  some  quietly  guessed. 
But  each  one  was  round-eyed,  and  grave  as  an  owl, 
And  nodded  as  sagely  as  that  learned  fowl. 

Quite  strange  to  relate,  they  at  last  all  agreed, 
Tlien  sent  to  King  Oleg  their  verdict  with  speed. 
To  make  it  more  mystic  they  put  it  in  verse, 
And    muttered    in   Sanscrit,  "  It   might    have   been 
worse  ! 

"  Wlicn  from  an  old  crone  comes  again  your  i^ohl  crown. 
Though  all  of  your  courtiers  should  grimace  and  fnmm, 
And  though  humble  the  goose-girl  by  whom  it  zvas  won, 
Right  there  on  the  spot  she  shall  tna?-ry  your  son." 


She  picked  up  the  glittering  circlet  of  gold;  The  King  then  commanded  the  heralds  to  stand 

Her  big  woollen  apron  in  many  a  fold  .^nd   blow   from    each   corner    the   news    thro'    the 

She    wrapped     round    her    treasure    without  more  land, 

delay,  That  the  maids  of  Russia  of  every  degree, 

And  then,  undiscovered,  soft  trotted  away.  Might  search  if  they  would,  all  diligently. 


'•  A  maiden  I'm  seeking  whose  tidy  and  iitat, 
To  milk  and  make  butter,  and  cut  up  my  peat, 
To  dust  and  to  sweep,  and  to  go  to  the  mill, 
And  care  for  my  geese  when  I'm  bu^y  or  ill." 


Then    Drontha    said    quickly,    "Take   me    for    your 

maid, 

Of  hard  work  I  am  not  in  the  least  afraid." 
'Twas    stranc;e    how    thick   goose-girls    appeared   on      For  Drontha  the  oracle  kept  in  her  mind, 

each  hand  !  "For  perhaps  it  is   /who   the   crown   shall  find  !  " 

Old  crones,  too,  for  mistresses,  came  in  demand  ! 
Small  service  they  got,  when  their  poor  backs  were  ^^ 

turned  — 
To  hunt  for  that  crown  every  girl's  fingers  burned. 


Now  Drontha  and  Dwina  were  fairest  by  far.  One  morning  the  crone  waked  her  maid    from  her 
Of  all  the  goose-girls  in  the  lands  of  the  Czar ;  sleep  : 

They  herded  their  geese  on  the  common  all  day,  "  The  peat  you  must  cut,  you  can  dust,  too,  and  sweep  ; 

And  snapped  their  long  whips  if  the  geese  dared  to  To  Novgorod  fair  I  am  going  to-day, 

stray.  And  mind  from  the  chimney  you  keep  far  awa)-." 


Of  course  they  both  wondered  whom  fate  w^ould  decree  The  old  crone  had  scarcely  gone  out  of  her  sight. 

To  find  the  gold  crown,  and  a  princess  to  be.  When  Drontha  began  to  poke  round,  left  and  right. 

"  I  wish  some  old  crone  would  take  me  for  her  maid  !  "  At  last  she  climbed  up  on  the  high  bacon  rack. 

Sighed  Drontha.     That  instant  a  voice  grufifly  said.  And  found  in  the  chimney  a  black  sheepskin  sack. 


Then  quickly  she  seized  it  and  quicker  jumped  down  ; 
She  danced  high  for  joy  as  she  felt  of  the  crown  ; 
With  fingers  that  trembled,  the  knots  she  untied, 
"Yes  /'// wed  Prince  Iniar  !"  she  eagerly  cried. 


Tlien  safe  in  her  apron  the  treasure  she  hid, 
And  under  her  jacket  the  golden  crown  slid. 
She  ran  down  the  pathway  that  led  to  the  wood, 
For  close  to  the  forest  the  King's  castle  stood. 

Right  over  the   pathway  a  little  gate  hung. 
And  backward  and  forward  it  ceaselessly  swung. 
It  creaked  and  it  squeaked,  and  it  mournfully  sighed. 
It   moaned  and  it  groaned,  and   it  plaintively  cried : 

•'  Please  shut  me  and  latch  me,  I  pray,  pretty  maid, 
It  hurts  my  back  badly  to  swing  so,"  it  said. 
"The  Prince  Fm  to  marry,  you'll  just  have  to  swing. 
I  can't  stop  to  bother  for  such  a  small  thing  !  " 

While  crossing  the  meadow,  she  met  the  red  cow  : 
"  Pray  stop,  pretty  maiden,  and  please  milk  me  now  !  " 
"  I'm  in  a  great  hurry,"  replied  the  rude  maid, 
"I  can't  stop  for  trifles  —  the  Prince  I'm  to  wed." 

As  Drontha  came  near  to  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
She  heard  a  low  voice  from  the  old  water-mill  : 
'■  O  prav,  prett)-  maiden,  just  turn  my  big  wheel ! 
I'm  tired  of  standing  here  silent  and  still  !  ". 

"  Indeed  I  won't,"  Drontha  then  rudely  replied  ; 
"  For  a  nap  in  the  hopper,  Fm  going  to  hide  ; 
And  that  is  the  reason  I  stopped  here  to-day  ■ — ■ 
To  marry  Prince  Imar  Fm  now  on  my  way." 


Then  into  the  hopper  she  gave  a  gay  leap, 
She  hid  in  the  corn,  and  she  fell  fast  asleep. 
To    dream    that    she    sat    like    a    queen    on    a 
throne, 
n  velvet  and  jewels  that  si:iarkled  and  shone. 


'I'lie  crone  returned  home,  and  at  once  missed 

the  sack, 
And  soon  started  off  on  tlie  naughty  maid's  track. 
She  trotted  along  till  she  came  to  the  gate, 
That,  creaking    and    moaning,  swung  early  and 


"  O  gate  o'  mine,  O  gate  o'  mine, 
Sa\-,  have  you  seen  that  girl  o'  mine  ?" 

'•  A  rude  girl  passed  an  hour  ago, 
\\'ho  left  me  swinging  to  and  fro. " 

"That's  just  my  Drontha,  the  rude,  rude  maid, 
'Twas  she,  I'm  certain,"  the  old  crone  said. 

"  O  cow  o'  mine,  O  cow  o'  mine. 

Say,  have  you  seen  that  girl  o'  mine?" 

'■  A  rude  girl  passed  an  hour  ago, 
Wlio  wouldn't  milk  me,  that  I  know." 

"  That's  just  my  Drontha,  the  rude,  rude  maid! 
'Twas  she,  I'm  certain,"  the  old  crone  said. 

'"O  mill  o'  mine,  O  mill  o'  mine, 

Sav,  have  you  seen  that  girl  o'  mine  }  " 

"A  girl's  in  the  hopper  fast  asleep, 

\\'av  down  in  the  corn  she's  buried  deep." 

"  That's  just  my  Drontha,  rude,  lazy  maid  ! 
'Tis  she,  I'm  certain,"  the  old  crone  said. 

Then  out  of  the  hopper  the  old  woman  took  her; 
With  all  of  her  might  and  her  main  she  shook  her. 
Till  Drontha  the  crown  dropped  in  terror  and  fright, 
And  ran  without  stopping  till  quite  out  of  sight. 


,.^-x,Jr^h^ 


■^yr^ 


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The  old  woman  put  the  gold  crown  in  the  sack, 
And  hid  it  again  by  the  high  bacon  rack  ; 
Then  off  to  the  common  she  went  with  all  speed. 
Though  sorry  was  she  of  a  maid  to  have  need. 

There    Dwina    sat    knitting    and    watching    her 

geese, 
Her  dinner  beside  her  of  black  bread  and  cheese. 


While  round  her  the  geese  on  one  leg  stood  to  rest ; 
These  words   to   the  goose-herd,  the   old  crone    ad- 
dressed : 

"  A  maiden  I'm  seeking  who  is  tidy  and  neat. 
To  milk  and  make  butter,  and  cut  up  my  peat, 
To  dust  and  to  sweep,  and  to  go  to  the  mill. 
And  care  for  my  geese  when  I'm  busy  or  ill." 


Young  Dwina  spoke  gently  :  "Your  maid  I  will  be; 
Your  work  I'll  endeavor  to  do  faithfully. 
I  know  how  to  milk,  how  to  dust  and  to  sweep, 
And,  if  busy  or  ill,  your  geese  I  can  keep." 


"  To  Novgorod  fair  I  am  going,  my  dear ; 
Cut  plenty  of  peat,  keep  the  fire  burning  clear ; 
There's  plenty  of  sweeping  and  dusting  to-day, 
But  see  that  you  keep  from  the  chimney  away." 


The  hut  Dwina  swept  and  made  everything  neat ; 
She  washed  up  the  hearthstones  and  cut  up  the  peat; 
But  the  fire  wouldn't  burn,  and  the  smoke  filled  the 

hut, 
So  her  broom-stick  she  took  to  clear  out  the  soot. 


She  met  on  the  meadow  the  poor  lowing  cow  : 
"  I  wish,  pretty  maiden,  you  i:o!</d  m'i\k  me  now  ' 
"  Indeed  I  will  gladly,"  the  little  maid  said. 
She  filled    the    big   bucket,    and    then    onward 
she  sped. 


When  lo  I    from  the  chimney  there  came    tumbling 

down 
A  black  sheepskin  sack  with  King  Oleg's  gold  crown  ! 
Said  Dwina,  "This  crown  to  the  King  ought  to  go  ! 
My  way  I  can  find  to  the  castle,  I  know !  " 


She  came  to  the  brook,  where  the  old  water-mill 
Huskily  said,  "Please,  to  start  my  big  w^heel." 
"Indeed  I  will  gladly,"  the  little  maid  said. 
She   turned    the    big   wheel,    and    then    onward 
she  sped. 


She  came  to  the  gate  that  still  wearily  hung: 
"  Please  latch  me.     I'm  tired,  so  long  have  I  swung." 
"Yes,  that  I  will  gladly,"  the  young  maiden  said. 
She    latched    the    gate   gently,    and    then    onward 
sped. 


The  old  crone  returned,  and  of  course  missed  the  sack. 
She  looked  at  the  hearth,  she  examined  the  rack  , 
The  hut  was  so  tidy,  so  wholesome  and  sweet. 
She    said,   "One    thing's   certain,   young  Dwina   is 
neat. 


"  O  gate  o'  mine,  O  gate  o'  mine, 
Say,  have  you  seen  tliat  girl  o'  mine  ?  " 

"  Only  a  lady  have  I  seen, 

Who  very  kind  to  me  has  been  !  " 

"Oh,  that  can  never  be  my  little  maid. 
She's  only  a  goose-girl,"  the  old  crone  said. 

"  O  cow  o'  mine,  O  cow  o'  mine, 

Say,  have  you  seen  that  girl  o'  mine  ?  " 


She  came  to  the  castle,  and  stood  there  amazed, 
For  joy  bells  were  ringing,  and  bonfires  blazed  ; 
Brass  bands,  too,  were  playing,  and  the  people  who 

chose. 
Were  going  to  court  in  their  best  Sunday  clothes. 

And  when    the  old    crone    said,    "What    does    f.iis 

mean?" 
They  shouted  "  King  Oleg  his  crown  has  again  ! 
Prince  Imar,  young  Dwina,  the  goose-herd,  will  wed, 
For  that's  what  the  oracle  plainly  has  said  !  " 


"Only  a  lady  have  I  seen. 

Who  very  kind  to  me  has  been  !  ' 


"  Oh,  that  can  never  be  my  little  maid. 
She's  only  a  goose-girl,"  the  old  crone  said. 

"O  mill  o'  mine,  O  mill  o'  mine, 

Say,  have  you  seen  that  girl  o'  mine  .■'  " 

"Only  a  lady  have  I  seen, 

Who  very  kind  to  me  has  been  !  " 

"  Oh,  that  can  never  be  my  little  maid. 
She  s  only  a  goose-girl,"  the  old  crone  said. 


"  I'm    glad,"  said    the    crone,  "  and    I    am   not  sur- 
prised 
(  She  was  really  a  fairy  quite  closely  disguised): 
Prince  Imar  no  worthier  Princess  could  find, 
For  Dwina's  obliging,  neat,  courteous  and  kind." 

Her  words  were  the  truth,  whether  fairy  or  crone; 
For  of  all  the  Czars  that  have  sat  on  the  throne. 
Nor  annals,  nor  legends,  before  then  or  since. 
Can  tell  of  a  happier  Princess  and  Prince. 


IX. 
LITTLE    PEACHLING. 

A   Japanese  Folk-Lore  Story. 


AT  tlie  foot  of  the  Golden  Dragon  Hill, 
Long  ages  ago,  in  a  snug  little  house 
With  a  roof  of  dark-brown,  velvety  thatch. 
There  lived  an  old  woodman  and  his  spouse. 

One  morning,  his  bill-hook  the  old  man  took : 
"To  the  mountain,  to  cut  me  a  fagot,  I'll  hie. 

While  you,  O  Koyo,  the  linen  can  wash 
In  the  river  which  rushes  and  gurgles  by." 


Oh,  the  merry  old  man  to  the  mountain  hied, 
Past  young  rice-fields  in  the  morning  sun, 

Toward  the  dark  fir-trees  on  the  mountain  side, 
Standing  forth  in  its  silence,  every  one. 

From  wild  camelias  and  white  plum-trees. 

In  his  twinkling  old  eyes  the  spider-webs  swung; 

And  he  merrily  brushed  by  the  green  bamboos, 
With  his  bill-hook  over  his  shoulder  hunir. 


ang  in  a  tall  cherry-tree 
As  the  smiling  old  wife  to  the  river-side  went : 
"  Oh,  red  is  the  sun,"  she  cheerily  sang. 
As  she  patiently  over  her  washing  bent. 

"Oh,  red  is  the  sun  ;   and  the  rice-fields  green  — 
Now  what  is  that  in  the  river  I  see  ? 

It's  the  rosiest  peach  in  the  whole  of  Jajsan ; 
And  it's  coming  a-floating,  a-floating  to  me. 

"  Now  here  is  a  feast  for  my  darling  old  man. 
Oh,  the  Great  Shogun  not  a  finer  can  get ! 

Some  stewed  lih'-bulbs,  and  this  beautiful  peach, 
Wlien  he  comes  from  toil,  before  him  I'll  set." 


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Soon  clown  from  the  mountnin  llie  old  man  cainc, 
And  fast  on  his  back  his  fagot  was  boiuul. 

"  Oh,  liasten  you,  husband,"  liis  loving  wife  cried, 
"  And  taste  this  beautiful  peach  that  I  found  !  " 

But  just  as  lie  took  it  the  peach  split  in  twain, 
And  a  fat  little  baby  with  raven-black  hair 

\Vas  cradled  right  in  the  heart  of  the  peach. 
And  lay  a-twinkling  and  blinking  there. 

"Oh  you  brave  little  boy,  you  shall  be  our  own  son 
And  Moniotaro  shall  have  for  a  name, 

Or  Little  Peachling,  since  out  of  a  peach. 

You  dear  little  fellow,  this  morning  you  came." 

The  rice-fields  blossomed  for  twenty  more  years, 
While  the  gurgling  old  river  amongst  them  ran ; 

For  twenty  more  years  grew  the  slim  bamboo. 
And  Little  Peachling  was  grown  to  a  man. 


"  Some  millet  dumpluigs  priA  make  for  me," 
To  his  good  foster  mother  lie  said  one  da}-, 

"  \nd  off  to  the  ogres'  castle  I'll  go, 

\nd  the  whole  of  their  treasure  will  bring  awa)^ 

"As  thick  in  the  ogres'  treasure-vaults 
The  jewels  are  lying  as  sea-shore  sands ; 

With  blue  snow-gates  on  the  mountain-top, 
The  ogres'  castle  all  proudly  stands  — 

"  With  blue  snow-gates  that  are  stronger  than  steel ; 

But  I  will  enter,  and  will  bring  to  you 
The  wealth  from  the  ogres'  treasure-vaults. 

Hung  over  with  pearls,  like  flowers  with  dew." 

"  I  have  made  you  the  dumplings,"  his  good  mother 
said, 

"  But  I  fear  lest  the  ogres  should  do  you  a  harm." 
But  the  Little  Peachling  danced  gayly  away. 

With  the  millet-dumplings  under  his  arm. 


A  dog  ]eapt  out  of  a  cluster  ot  pines  : 

"  And  what  have  you  there,  Little  Peacli 
ling,  pray?  " 

"  The  best  millet-dumplings  in  all  Japa.i, 
And  I'm  to  the  ogres'  castle  away." 

"  For  one  of  your  dumplings  with  you  I'll  go 
And  the  ogres'  castle  will  help  subdue." 

'•Well,  you  can  bark  at  the  castle-gate; 
So  here  is  a  dumpling,  friend  dog,  for  you.' 


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"One  of  your  dumplings  pray  give  *;Ot:.n.e, 

And  the  ogres'  castle  I'll  help  suu..; 
'■  M'ell,  you  can  climb  o'er  the  castle-wall ; 

So  here  is  a  dumpling,  friend  ape,  for  you." 

"  Ken,  kai,'"  cried  a  pheasant,  "  and  what  have  you 
there. 

Little  Peachling,  tucked  in  your  girdle,  I  pray?" 
"  The  best  millet-dumplings  in  all  Japan, 

And  I'm  to  the  ogres'  castle  away." 

"For  one  of  your  dumplings  with  you  I'll  go, 
And  the  ogres'  castle  will  help  subdue." 

"  Well,  you  can  fly  o'er  the  castle-gate  ; 

So  here  is  a  dumpling,  friend  pheasant,  for  you."' 

Oil.  the  castle  stood  high  on  the  mountain-top, 
.\nd  over  its  turrets  a  hurricane  blew  ; 

r.ut  I'p  to  its  terrible  blue  snow-gate*^ 

Little  Peachling  marched  with  his  retinue. 


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Then  the  ogres  swaniied  out  on  the  castle-towers, 
The  drums  beat  loud,  and  the  trumpets  brayed, 

And  magical  arrows  came  rustling  around  — 
But  our  brave  little  ronin  was  not  afraid. 

For  his  pheasant  flew  over  the  castle-wall, 
And  his  ape,  he  undid  the  castle-gate  ; 

And  brave  Little  Peachling,  with  the  barking  dog, 
Marched  into  the  ogres'  castle  in  state. 

His  little  dog  snapped  at  the  ogres'  heels ; 

His  pheasant  picked  at  their  round  green  eyes; 
And  his  ape  tweaked  away  at  the  ogres'  locks. 

As  only  an  ape  can  do  when  he  tries. 

And  the  little  ronin,  around  him  he  laid. 
With  his  niuramasa,  so  thick  and  fast, 

That  the  king  of  the  ogres  was  prisoner  made  ; 
And  the  ogres'  castle  was  taken  at  last. 

Oh  measures  of  pearls  and  wedges  of  gold  ! 

Oh  the  jars  of  musk  and  the  coral-bars  ! 
Amber  and  emeralds,  tortoise-shells, 

And  diamonds  shining  like  strings  of  stars  ! 

Gold-brocade  coats,  and  wonderful  gems 

That  regulated  the  green  sea-tide  ! 
It's  always  the  loveliest  things  in  the  world 

Which  the  treasure-castles  of  ogres  hide. 

Witli  the  treasures,  the  dog,  the  pheasant  and  ape, 
Little  Peachling  home  to  his  parents  ran  ; 

And  the  old  wood-cutter  and  his  loving  wife 
Were  the  happiest  couple  in  all  Japan. 


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X. 

THE    FAIRY    FLAG. 

An  Isle  of  Skye  Folk-Tale. 


THE    FAIRY    FLAG. 

[A  Siye  Folk-lore  Story.) 


By  Mary  E.  Wilkins. 


BEYOND  the  purple  gloom  of  moors, 
Beyond   the   blueness  of  the  sea, 
Beyond  the  range  of  chalk-white  cliffs, 
The  sun  was  setting  peacefully. 


The  fairy,  on  a  grassy  knoll, 

Sat  dreaming,  singing  to  the  cows: 

"  Kncc-dcep  in  clumps  of  p/umy  ferns, 
Kncc-dccp  in  rustling  grasses  browse/ 


"  The  chieftain  slays  Ids  focmati  s  clan, 
The  lady  'hroiders  in  the  hall ; 

I  sit  here  singing  to  the  cows. 
And  am  the  gayest  one  of  all ! 


"  Now  of  the  clumps  of  spicy  fern, 
No7i}  of  the  juicy  grasses  taste  f" 

The  fairy  wore  a  grass-green  gown, 
With  golden  girdle  at  her  waist; 


Her  winsome  little  face  upturned, 

Her  soft  gold  hair  all  round  her  streamed; 
Her  small  pink  cheeks  like  roses  burned, 

Her  wild  blue  eyes  like  jewels  beamed. 


She  struck  a  little  harp  o'  pearl, 
As  to  the  browsing  kine  she  sung: 

All  lightly  o'er  the  fairy  bridge 
Beyond,  a  bonnie  laddie  sprung. 


He  had  Prince  Charlie's  yellow  locks, 
His  gay  blue  eyes  and  lovesome  way: 

Macleod's  little  son  he  was  — 
The  castle  just  beyond  him  lay. 


'Sr-v 


The  fairy  lilted  loud  and  sweet, 

The  laddie  turned  him  round  to  see; 

She  lifted  up  her  little  face, 

And  sweet,  and  sweet,  and  sweet,  smiled  she. 


The  laddie  thro'  the  heather  ran, 
His  tartan  blowing  out  behind, 

The  little  fairy,  gowned  in  green, 
Wi'  little  harp  o'  pearl,  to  find. 

"And  since  you  are  a  mortal  bairn, 

And  yet  have  shunned  me  not,''  she  said, 

"  A  fairy  gift  I'll  give  to  thee. 
To-morrow,  when  the  west  is  red. 

"And  since  you  have  a  bonny  face, 

I'll  give  to  thee  a  fairy  kiss, 
To  take  the  bitter  from  thy  woe, 

And  add  a  sweetness  to  thy  bliss." 


She  kissed  the  laddie's  blushing  cheek. 
And  all  the  air  grew  sweet  around. 

As  if  a  million  flowers  bloomed  out  — 
And  than  she  vanished  from  the  ground 

The  western  sky  all  roses  was. 

And  round  "Macleod's  ?.Iaiden"s"  feet 
Foam-wreaths  to  wreaths  of  roses  turned. 

The  fairv  lilted  loud  and  sweet; 


The  flag  was  green  as  springtide  sward 
What  time  the  sun  upon  it  lies. 

And  shot  with  threads  of  glittering  gold, 
And  filled  with  spots  of  gold,  like  eyes. 


The  laddie  o'er  the  fairy  bridge. 
Came  running  lightly  to  her  side: 

"  And  have  you  brought  the  fairy  gift 
You  promised  me  last  night  ? "  he  cried. 


She  put  it  in  the  laddie's  hand: 

"Once  waved,  "twill  bring  thee  thv  desire. 
And  twice,  and  thrice  —  but  not  again; 

Then  cast  it,  worthless,  in  the  fire!" 


A  shadow  o'er  her  gown  o'  green, 
A  shadow  o'er  her  winsome  face, 

A  shadow  o'er  her  golden  hair, 
Came  softly  creeping  on  apace. 


The  laddie  held  the  fairy  flag. 
Alone  in  twilight  gray  and  cold ; 

And  stood  and  looked,  his  wond'ring  eyes 
All  filled  with  dancing  motes  of  rold. 


The  laddie's  yellow  beard  had  grown  : 
He'd  wedded  with  a  lady  fair  ; 

And  he  had  got  a  little  son, 

With  his  same  bonnie  yellow  hair. 


And  ahvay  had  the  fairy's  kiss, 
She  ga\'e  to  him  so  long  ago. 

Added  a  sweetness  to  his  bliss, 
And  ta'en  the  bitter  from  his  woe. 


But  never  yet  the  fair\'  flag 

Had  waved  upon  the  castle  wall; 
For  with  his  stalwart  arm  and  sword. 

His  troubles  he  had  breasted  all. 


Macleod  called  his  followers  out, 
And  loud  the  castle  trumpets  blew 

"  Macleod"s  heir  is  strayed  awa". 
And  on  the  heather  falls  the  dew. 


"And  on  the  heather  falls  the  dew; 

Shadows  are  floating  o'er  the  sea. 
Oh,  Where's  my  little  laddie  gone  ?  — 

I  pray  ye  bring  him  back  to  me ! " 


They  searched  along  the  chalk-white  clift's, 
Upon  the  dizzy  lianging  paths; 

They  sought  him  on  their  breezy  tops, 
Along  the  strips  of  grassy  straths. 


The)-  called  "Macleod  "  down  the  hill; 

They  called  "Macleod  "  down  the  vale 
They  hailed  the  shepherd  wilh  his  flock, 

The  maiden  with  her  milking-pail. 


His  mother  looked  out  o'er  the  sea, 
To  where  "  Macleod's  Maidens  "  stand, 

To  see,  above  the  foam-wreaths,  rise 
His  yellow  head  and  waving  hand. 


The  laddie  came  not;  and  the  moon 
With  all  the  stars  sailed  out  in  sight  • 

"  Macleod's  Tables,"  tops  of  snow, 
Were  cloth  of  silver  in  her  light. 


"Bring  out,  bring  out  the  fairy  flag! 

I'll  wave  it  from  the  topmost  tower! 
There'll  come  no  direr  need  than  this  — 

Macleod's  race  has  lost  its  flow-erl" 


I-T^:-^'^' 


Macleod  waved  the  fairy  Hag; 

ll  looked  a  net  of  golden  wire; 
Its  streaks,  of  jjold  and  spots  of  gold, 

All  linked  and  curled  like  tongues  of  fire. 


There  came  a  twang  o'  pearlic  harp, 
There  came  a  lilting  loud  and  sweet; 

And  softly  o'er  the  fairy  bridge 

There  came  the  dance  o'  slender  feet. 


All  day  the  chief  had  held  the  field. 
Nor  quailed  until  the  sun  sank  low; 

His  followers,  bleeding,  round  him  lay, 
And  he  was  hemmed  in  by  the  foe. 


There  danced  along  the  fairy  bridge 
A  spot  i'  the  golden  light  apace  ; 

The  laddie  at  the  castle  gate 
Stood  lifting  up  his  bonnie  face. 


"  Oh,  life  is  sweet !  "  Macleod  thought 
"  I  love  my  bairn  and  lady  dear  : 

ril  wave  again  the  fairy  flag  — 
Oh,  will  it  bring  me  succor  here  !" 


"Oh,  I  ha'  wandered  by  the  burn, 
And  I  ha'  wandered  by  the  glen  ; 

A  little  leddy  all  in  green," 

He  said,  "  has  led  me  home  again." 


Macleod  waved  the  fairy  flag  — 

His  foemen  reeled  back  at  the  sight; 

For  in  their  cruel  eyes  there  danced 
Great  spots  and  bars  of  golden  light. 


Macleod  furled  the  fairy  flag: 

"  Ye've  served  me  once  in  blessed  stead  ■ 
But  sorely  I'll  be  pressed  again 

Ere  I  will  wave  ye  twice  !  "  he  said. 


There  came  a  _twang  o'  pearlie  harp,    . 

There  came  a  lilting  loud  and  sweet : 
Macleod's  foemen  turned  and  fled, 

The  hills  all  rang  with  flying  feet. 


Macleod  furled  the  fairy  flag : 

"  Ye've  served  me  twice  in  blessed  steaci  — 
But  I  shall  in  the  churchyard  lie 

Ere  I  will  wave  ye  thrice!"  he  said. 


The  hand  that  waved  the  fairj'  flag, 
The  lips  the  fairy  kissed,  are  still ; 

Macleod  in  the  churchyard  lies, 

And  deaf  to  lilting  sweet  and  shrill. 


But  still  his  kin  in  misty  Skye 
The  fairy  flag  in  keeping  hold  ; 

And  sometime  from"  the    castle  wall 
May  flash  its  spots  and  bars  of  gold. 


"For. if  I  thrice  should  wave  the  flag. 
And  thrice  should  get  my  heart's  desire  ; 

Next  day  might  come  a  sorer  need,. 
When  it  was  ashes  in  the  fire." 


Macleod  kept  his  word  :  he  fought 
For  life  on  many  a  bloody  plain, 

He  tossed  in  peril  on  the  sea. 
Nor  waved  the  fairy  flag  again. 


But  dire  indeed  shall  be  the  need, 
.    And  every  other  hope  be  slain, 
Ere  a  Macleod  of  the  Isle 

Shall  wave  the  fairj'  flag  again. 


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